


Western Fire

by alianne



Category: The Dead Isle - Sam Starbuck
Genre: Fire, Gen, Guns, Pre-Canon, Shooting, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianne/pseuds/alianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not six months into Her Majesty's service, Ellis is sent to Montana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Western Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Idhren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idhren/gifts).



EXCERPT FROM A LETTER FROM ELLIS GRAVESWORTHY TO GREGORY ANDERSON, POSTMARKED FROM MONTANA, USA TO CAMBRIDGE, UK

_Though undated, this letter is easily ascribed to Graveworthy’s youth, on his first trip to western United States._

I wish you could be here, Gregory. This is much more your kind of thing, what with the travel, and the cattle, and the travel, and the horses, and did I mention the travel? One can’t argue too much against it, I know, but I already see so many worlds when I close my eyes that I almost don’t see the point of visiting more while they are open. Though the differences in culture are astounding – just when I think I understand what is going on, something slips in to take me by surprise. There is a story somewhere in that notion, I believe.

Perhaps I will pick up my pen for stories once more. I hear so many of them, circled round the campfire, and they crowd up against the people and places that have already claimed residence inside my head. Yet this same campfire is where, as the stories of gold circle round, I get my chance to bleed out words into listening ears. It’s cathartic, in it’s own way – since leaving school I feel as though I am an upturned cart with wheels spinning in the breeze, unable to right myself. Perhaps that metaphor would work better as a turtle. Do write back, Greg, if you can tear yourself away from your tutoring sessions with Nigel. Unless something drastic happens to the post you won’t be sitting your exams for a month or more, so you have the time.

Also, I am not very fond of cows.

***

Montana was not suiting Ellis. He suspected it had to do with the distinct lack of rain, though possibly it was more due to his still unresolved distress at leaving Cambridge. Technically he still wasn’t sure if he would have been allowed to remain had he wanted to stay, as the Vice-Chancellor had never actually been clear on the ramifications of Ellis’s political poetry. But without this clarification, Ellis felt as though the decision was all his own.

 _You would think that after Paris it wouldn’t matter_ , he had written to Anderson in a letter he burned before the ink fully dried. _I know I am serving my country; I am doing work that I never could have dreamt of doing while still at school. But hiding from city militia and certain execution does not exactly instill a sense of good decision making in a person. And here I am preparing to do it all again._

A branch snapped behind him and Ellis snapped out of his reverie, though training kicked in just quickly enough that he did not jump up from his seat. He casually turned his head, and relaxed as he saw Mary approaching. She nodded to him and leaned up against the fence, watching the road to town behind him as he eyed the cows scattered through the hills, up towards the river. One thing that was to be said for Montana, Ellis’s brain offered, even as he noticed the tight set of Mary’s shoulders and the way her eyes flicked from house to road and back again, was the visibility with which you could see people approaching… and the lack of sewer systems to get trapped in.

“Ellis, I don’t know how, but they’ve found you. Or at least they suspect.” Though Mary’s voice was quiet, her face was drawn and Ellis could see the effort as she tried to look calm. “I think someone might have finally tracked down my cousin.”

Ellis nodded. They knew this day might come; he had only hoped it would come after he had received the package. “Well, time to move out, then. When should we leave? I can pack up in an hour or so.”

“We don’t have that long,” Mary said. “You need to go hide, now. I’ll try to hold them off, and then I’ll come find you.”

“Where?”

“Go to the cattle. If you can find a calf or two you should stay with them. The bulls should protect the calves, at least.” Mary smiled wryly. “Their horns do tend to deter people.”

Ellis groaned at the memory and slid off the fence. “Yes, that they do.” His ill-fitting cowboy boots crunched dry grass as he headed out toward the cattle.

Mary turned to look at him, a worried expression finally crossing her face. For all she had come to like the boy, she was playing a dangerous game, and none knew more than she just how closely to the edge they were walking. It would take all her skill to keep the just arrived documents in America while keeping Ellis alive, and if she could only have one of those in the end it would not be the latter. Though her father had been fiercely loyal to the crown, Mary only had vague half-memories of cold, dreary garrets, a sense of shame whenever she walked the streets, and overwhelming relief when they had settled in Bannack City. She was just barely old enough to remember her father’s exultant cries that first morning he had struck gold, and she had grown up with the town booming around her.

Falling in with the Sherriff’s son had been both the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to her, Mary reflected. The best in that it changed forever her purpose in life, and the worst in how it put her at odds with her father. For lying with William one night, she had blithely repeated one of her father’s rants and had asked him how it was possible for his father to turn such a blind eye to the local outlaws. William had looked at her, and after a pause, he asked her, “Do you love America, Mary?”

Taken aback at how random and unexpected the question seemed, Mary was startled into answering honestly. “It’s done better by me than England ever did, if that’s what you mean.”

William shook his head. “No, what I mean is… Damn, I’ve never done this before. Look, Mary – do you ever feel like a true American? Like someone who really, truly makes a difference to the world?”

“Will, I don’t even feel like I make a difference in this town.”

“Well what if you could? What if you knew you could do something that would help America be the best she can be?” He leaned in closer and held out his hand. Flames flickered over it and winked out. “What if you could help create a country that would last forever.”

And there, in the dim light of the spare room, Will had taught Mary about politics. About the true reason for the gold rush, and why his father’s agents robbed and killed the miners. And as Mary’s eyes grew wide, she grasped Will’s hand and swore.

But it isn’t so easy to kill, Mary mused as she watched Ellis, not when the enemy trusts you as an ally, not when you know his stories.

***

Ellis trudged out towards the cattle, finally tucking himself behind a haystack where a small herd was gathered. As he tried to find a place where he could avoid horns and hooves, he replayed Mary’s conversation in his mind. Mary, who had eagerly opened her home to him. Mary, whose father had been a loyal agent of the Queen. Mary, who neglected to inform her father’s contacts that he was deceased. Mary, whose name no one had mentioned when he was planning this trip.

“If I was writing this story,” Ellis told the nearest cow, “I would need to give her a reason for not informing the Empire of his death. It would be simplest to assume that she wanted to use his contacts for her own purposes, but that’s so rarely how people actually work. Perhaps she just didn’t want to be demoted? I hear imports often are.” Ellis paused, waited expectantly, and sighed. “And this, Gregory, is why I need you to hurry up and get out of Cambridge, so I can talk to you, instead of a cow.”

Ellis frowned as he turned over the Rules in his head. It was a shame that one had to be out of school before he could be inducted. The young could get up to so much, without parental notice. Though he did enjoy the dubious honor of being the youngest agent, he did not believe that would last long. After all, wasn’t he doing good work because of his youth? He could get where the older players could not, be it due to fitness, contacts, or family.

Family. Ellis’s mind caught up with his words. Family. Without parental notice. Ellis’s memory raced back to his induction ceremony, and a small Welshman staring at him as he knelt.

_Answer truthfully, for I will know if you do not… Do you avow that you hold no covert allegiance to the government of any other country save that of Her Majesty the Queen._

I will know if you do not. No covert allegiance. Any other country. I will know if you do not. Mary, who neglected to inform anyone her father was deceased. Mary, who had grown up in America.

Mary, who was not, in fact, loyal to the Empire.

Ellis stood up and started to run. Though he began running without a destination in mind, as he put more distance between him and the cattle his mind started to clear. He knew he needed to get off Mary’s farm faster than he could run, and that meant finding a different form of transportation. In this country, Ellis grumbled to himself, fast transport meant horses. Even if he could remember his training to hold on to a Created cycler long enough for it to carry him far enough, the risk he took of letting a Westerner see unstructured Creation (as they called it) was certainly not worth it.  Changing course slightly, Ellis aimed for the hill that he knew was hiding a paddock. Since coming here, he had found it hard to wrap his mind around the way these people interpreted LaRoche’s words, though his compliance was a necessity if he wanted to remain free to get home.  

Ellis slowed slightly as he saw the horses behind a fence. Horses did not tend to get along with Ellis, but it was time and past to be worried about that, especially as he feared his brief lead was about to expire. Approaching the nearest chestnut, Ellis reached out a hand. The horse shied away and Ellis sighed, turning towards the bay. Ellis laid a hand on the horse, this time smiling slightly when there was no reaction. He turned away from the horse and concentrated, Creating a rough saddle. Though he knew from experience that the horse would spook at the feeling of the saddle disappearing from it’s back, there was no other way Ellis could easily mount. Struggling to cinch the saddle quickly, Ellis began running through his exit routes.

 _And yet, something still isn’t right,_ Ellis thought grimly, awkwardly mounting the bay and nudging him to a trot. _Something must have changed for me to need to leave. Why did Mary keep me on so long? Something must have been added into the mix so that I am not needed anymore._ When the obvious reason finally occurred to him, Ellis nearly fell off the horse.

“Of course,” he murmured. “I told her the package was to be delivered to me – she wasn’t aware that I don’t know where it’s coming from, nor does the deliverer know who I am. So she believed I had to be present to receive it. How beautifully simple.” His adrenaline spiking, Ellis turned his mount  back towards Mary’s house as he.

***

“You know this isn’t going to be simple, correct?” The Welshman is skeptical as he looks at Ellis, who nods. The mission has been explained to him multiple times. “And you are content to undertake this trip, knowing that you will have to close your eyes and ears to the information you will have to transport?”

“I am just the messenger,” Ellis replies, repeating the words that have been told to him. “Should my eyes see the words, my mind will forget them.”

There is a pause as the two men look over one another.

“You lie,” says the Welshman flatly, “but I do not think you are aware of it. You will come to learn, my boy, that some people are unable to forget.”

“I am telling you the truth as I know it.”

“And I am telling you that you do not know the truth as it is. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but remember – there is only ever one set of facts.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Remember that, Graveworthy, it will do you well. All that being said, I still think you are the right person for this job. Let’s go over the details once more. How you will get in, and the various ways you can get out.”

“Sir?”

“Graveworthy, you haven’t been with us long, but you have been with us long enough to know that we can’t plan for everything. We tell you what you need to know to be able to do your job, no matter what unseen obstacles you encounter. And in this case, you need to know ways to get out that do not rely on our overseas contacts, as you will only know the man we are sending you to.”

Ellis’s mind flashes to the sewers of Paris and his heart racing in his chest. He understands, and leans forward as his contact begins to speak.

***

Ellis ditched the bay in the cattle paddock, glad for once that it was so near. He crept to the back door, pausing to listen for noises. Although there were a myriad of places Mary could have hid the documents, she had no reason to suspect his return and for this reason, Ellis decided, they would be in the most logical place. Carefully he entered the house, one hand pushing his jacket back to draw his revolver. Thus armed, he crept down the hallway and opened the door to Mary’s study.

Her desk, as always, was a bit of a wreck. Ellis shook his head as his hands sifted papers. He never understood how she organized or could find anything that she needed, though he realized his systems might appear just as chaotic to any mind other than his own. He carefully rummaged, hoping to feel a certain seal or ribbon, or catch a flash of purple or glimpse of the Tudor-esq rose. Ellis had almost given up on the desk when his knuckle slipped and knocked loose a front panel on the drawer. Crouching, he looked in the slim opening and drew out a folded packet. The weight of the Empire settled back on Ellis’s shoulders as he tucked the paper into his waistband. He just made it to the back door when he heard voices from the front of the house. They must have come in as he searched. Ellis cursed to himself.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Will’s voice echoed down the hall.

“He was out with the horses! What did you want me to do, go shoot him down out there?” Mary retorted.

“Yes!”

“That would have spooked the animals!”

“Do you care for those animals more than your country?”

“My _country_ doesn’t exactly pay my bills!”

The sound of a slap. Ellis slid the door open and slipped out onto the deck, ducking so that he was not standing in front of the window. In his haste, Ellis almost knocked his head against the wooden crates stacked up on the wall. The words came into focus, and Ellis almost chuckled. This would be easier than he had hoped. Grabbing two fistfuls of sticks from the top crate, he rolled off the deck and began running towards the cattle paddock as soon as he cleared the garden. As he jumped over the fence he heard a gunshot ring out behind him.

 _I never thought I would hope they were shooting at me_ , Ellis thought crazily as he sped up, _but if the other option is close range at Mary, at least I have a chance for escape._ A second shot, and this time Ellis felt a bullet pass by his ear. He dove behind the haystack as he set down the sticks and pulled a sack of gunpowder from his pocket. He ripped the cover off the package and quickly tore a corner of the sack off and made a small mound of gunpowder in front of the hay. Ellis closed his eyes and Created a shield, and holding it between himself and the house he ran towards the horses, letting the gunpowder trickle out between his fingers as he moved.

The gunpowder had almost run out when Ellis reached the horse farm. Opening the gate, he let the shield fade as he Created a bridle in it’s place. Softly apologizing to the chestnut, Ellis forced the bridle over the horse’s face, the bit into his mouth, and drew him to the fence to mount. Ellis had barely made it out through the gate when Will crested the hill and leveled a gun at him.

“What’d you do with them?”

Later on, Ellis felt that he couldn’t be faulted for the lack of originality in his answer. But gunpoint did that to a man.

“Do with what?” Ellis replied.

“The package. Where’d you put it?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you?”

William cocked the gun. “The fact that your life depends on it.”

“Do you really want to know?” Ellis took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his revolver, very consciously not touching the papers hidden in his clothes. “Do you want to know what I did with the package? I put it somewhere you’ll never find it.” And in a fluid movement, Ellis swung his revolver up and shot, not at William, but at the line of gunpowder running back to the farm. William watched, stunned, as a line of flame ripped back along their path, igniting the dry grass around them. The flames reached the haystack and ignited an explosion of gunpowder and dynamite, expanding far beyond the reach of the gunpowder alone.

“Go and find it before it burns!” Ellis yelled, struggling to stay on the rearing chestnut. “Best it should be in the flame before it lands in your hands!”

William bellowed and fired his gun at Ellis, who ducked as much as he could, glad that he was already a moving target. A second shot followed, and Ellis’s hat was blown off. A third shot – and Ellis shrieked as fire ripped through his shoulder. A fourth, William was not questioning Ellis’s bluff, or if he was, he was counting on the documents being on his person. A fifth, sixth shot, and Ellis did not know how William missed but did not question it as he kicked the chestnut horse into submission and raced off towards the Montana Trail.

Ellis looked back over his shoulder only once. Flames engulfed Mary’s house and were racing towards town as the dry grassland caught fire. Smoke rose a pillar into the sky, cries and shouts as well as flame carried on the breeze.  Ellis gritted his teeth against the pain as he rode, unsure if the tears in his eyes were from his shoulder, the smoke, or the shame rising in his gut at the realization how much he had just destroyed. Ellis knew this destruction would remain with him, knew that he would serve years to help rebuild that which he had razed.

Perhaps it was a good thing Anderson wasn’t yet in the service. Ellis never wanted to have to relive this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't the other-culture worldbuilding you suggested, but I'm hesitant to delve so deeply into a culture that I don't know, especially when trying to integrate Creationism into the mix. I hope you enjoyed this and the flashes of how a Midwestern Creationist bible-belt might appear to Ellis.


End file.
